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Demo...

Sometimes it feels like my life is in a constant state of demo.  And by that, I mean demolition.  I began a long overdue bathroom demo yesterday.  And thankfully, it went well, no giant surprises, pretty much what we expected.  Fuck, my house is OLD!  It is kind of amazing to see how things used to be done.  And how that compares with how we do things now.  I am also amazed at the longevity of wood.  We opened up the walls and it looks absolutely like a house that was built in 1937.


Anyway, the demo of the bathroom went well, and fast.  John and Aaron are amazing, just saying!  And it was like 107 here yesterday, I felt so badly for them.  It is hard work, made harder still in the heat.


So my life at home, which is usually quite orderly, organized and tidy, is now not like that at all.  I have a makeshift bathroom in my kitchen while this all goes down and there is stuff everywhere.  It is a lot and normally I don’t handle this type of thing well.  My OCD requires that everything be neat, tidy and free of clutter.


So I am in conflict with myself, again, still.


However, as they tore apart walls, tile and ancient bathtub and the like, I realized that this was actually quite metaphorical for life and living.  In order for things to change, we often have to rip our lives down to the studs.  We have to allow the old to be removed to make way for something new.  It is not easy or fun and requires we give up our way, to allow for something different to happen.  And the amount of suffering we experience in this process is directly proportional to the amount of wrong or bad or “this isn’t supposed to be happening” or my personal favorite “this should be different, or at least feel different”.


But yesterday was they hacked away at my bathroom, I realized that I was emotionally ok with the mess.  I was ok with all the destruction and demolition going on.  It was actually quite fitting.  I have been in the emotional process of ripping my interior life down to my studs, with a little help from a relationship that refused to work but refused to leave as well,  With the needs of others,  With the bottoming out of my social activities and friendships.  Everything, recently, has felt and continues to feel like my life is being rearranged.


When I spent those 11 days in Ireland alone, I was amazed at how comfortable I felt most of the time.  I didn’t really long for other companionship.  Instead, what I acutely experienced was how alone I felt is so many of my relationships.  Most especially the primary one where I would have liked to have felt much differently.  But alone, and left, and missing was the prevailing feeling always in that relationship.  And I was just too stubborn and sick to realize it.


I am still working through what is mine and what is not.  It is hard to discern sometimes, and I have a tendency to take on other people’s issues and problems because I have this delusional belief that somehow I can resolve things that are not mine to resolve.  Fucked up, I KNOW!


So I sit now in my relational demo and am pretty happy with the progress.  The bathroom really is a metaphor for me and my internal emotional bandwidth and range currently.  Everything is being torn down and apart, and that is all in the way of progress.  Really. And it is going to feel intermittently wonderful and awful.  And I am likely in for some nasty surprises that are unanticipated and unwelcome.


You cannot tear down a bathroom and not find some shit.  And you cannot do similar demo work to your own soul and not find some rather nasty surprises.  It feels an awful lot like free falling...and when I am free falling, I really do worry about hitting the bottom.  And this time, it feels like I have been free falling for a very long time.


But like with bathroom demo, so too with soul demolition.  It is always going to be a mixed bag.  I have to move forward, allowing the things that are supposed to fall apart, need to fall apart and must, in fact, fall apart, to do so.  This is the only way I am going to get a functional, more modern bathroom.  And it is also the only way I am ever going to heal myself and my relationships.


Again...still.


Fuck just seems to always go with me wherever I go...it just always fits whatever situation I am in...again, still.




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